


I just want (you) to be happy

by bluenna



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: AU, F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-27
Updated: 2016-01-27
Packaged: 2018-05-16 18:15:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5835847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluenna/pseuds/bluenna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Octavia is in no way proud of this – this being the inconvenient crush on her best friend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I just want (you) to be happy

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first octavia/clarke fic and idk what to think about it... hope its ok.

Octavia is seriously contemplating cutting her hair. The summer wind is nowhere near cooling, it hits Octavia's face dry and hot, making her scalp itch and sweat. She scratches at the back of her head and fixes her ponytail, wishing she could go to the beach and dip her head into the chill water for a couple of minutes. Instead she's making her way to the nearby coffee shop where her best friend Clarke is working, halfway through her morning shift and, according to her text, in dire need of company. 

The coffee shop is empty of customers when Octavia gets there. She stops at the entrance to watch Clarke rest her head against the counter before she opens the door, causing the bell above it to chime. Clarke looks up and grins, her whole face lighting up.

”Thank God you're here,” Clarke breaths out, and makes her way around the counter to Octavia. She pulls the younger girl into a hug, and Octavia hides her blush against Clarke's t-shirt covered shoulder. ”I was starting to go crazy,” Clarke says as she takes a step back, ”I've had a total of three customers this morning, and I'm tired of cleaning the same spotless tables again and again.”

Octavia smiles. She follows Clarke to the counter and leans against it, her forearms against the shiny wood. ”At least you have air conditioning in here,” Octavia points out, following Clarke with her eyes as the other girl drags a stool to the counter and sits on it. 

Clarke hums. ”Yeah. Do you want something to drink, by the way? You look like you might want and iced coffee.”

”You know me so well.” Octavia smiles. ”But you don't have to get up.”

”Don't be an idiot,” Clarke says. She abandons the stool and prepares the drink to Octavia, oblivious to the way Octavia keeps staring at her, and Octavia should stop, turn her head and stare at the wall instead, but she isn't able to.

She is in no way proud of this – this being the inconvenient crush on her best friend. She has no idea when it had begun really, when her feelings had crossed the line between friendly and romantic. Suddenly every touch had burned her skin, and her had chest seized every time Clarke smiled or laughed, and it hasn't stopped since. It's hard to hide sometimes: Clarke's presence automatically relaxes Octavia, and she forgets herself (stares too long, doesn't take her hand off the other girl fast enough, says ”I love you,” and means it too much.)

She could handle this – she really could – if it wasn't for the fact that Clarke has fallen at least half in love with Octavia's brother. She thinks Bellamy and Clarke could work too if they stopped bickering for at least five minutes, and that only makes it worse. She cannot and will not go between her brother and best friend, no matter how her heart aches (and god it does.)

”Octavia?” Clarke's voice pulls her out of her thoughts, and Octavia blinks up at the other girl, who's holding the iced coffee with an expression of concern on her face. ”Is everything okay?”

”Yes. Yes, of course,” Octavia says. She grins, making sure to look as genuine as possible; she has spent dozens of minutes in front of a mirror practicing for moments like this. ”I just kinda got lost in my own head.”

Clarke smiles fondly. ”I noticed.” She sets the iced coffee on the counter in front of Octavia. ”You've been doing that a lot lately,” she says, partially expecting Octavia to open up.

”It's the heat,” Octavia explains, lifts the drink to her mouth and bites the straw before drinking. ”Makes my brain go all gooey.”

Clarke doesn't press any further, and Octavia directs the conversation to another topic. She asks Clarke if she'd want to go to the beach when her shift ends and order chinese afterwards, chatters about movies she has bought lately that they should watch, and wonders how many days will the hot weather lasts before it starts raining. She sees the spark reappear in Clarke's eyes, and fiddles with her straw until the urge to reach out and touch subsides.

–

Octavia and Clarke met at school. Clarke was one grade above her, but that didn't bother Octavia. She had always been determined to make friends no matter what obstacles, and although being a year younger did seem like an impossible obstacle to overcome, they somehow managed. They were both fiery and bossy and wanted to have the last word, which is why they had trouble being nice for other kids for longer periods of time. They somehow liked being bossy together instead of fighting and, after finding out it was only a five minute bike ride from the Octavia's house to Clarke's, they spend almost all their free time together.

Octavia had always been very protective over Clarke; when they were ten and someone insulted the older girl, Octavia was guaranteed to stomp over and push them over. When they got older, Octavia settled to sending daggers in their way. Clarke didn't like it when she got into fights. She should've probably known; she never liked any of Clarke's boyfriends, they never seemed to be good enough for her, and Octavia herself only talked about jumping someone if it got Clarke to sputter and blush and push her shoulder. 

She knew it was okay for girls to like girls. She just didn't know it was okay for her to like a girl like Clarke.  
–

A month into the summer vacation they're spending the night in the middle of nowhere on Clarke's family's cottage. There's a fire built on the backyard just a stone's throw away from the lake, and ten people sitting around it, marshmallows at the ends of sticks and bottles of beer scattered around their feet.

It's the first real meeting with the whole gang that summer, and Octavia is excited about it. She ruffles Monty's hair when he sits down next to her on a log, and kicks Murphy in the shins every time he's being an ass, laughing when he glares at her. 

It's a bit chilly despite the fire, so Octavia has wrapped herself in an over-sized sweater, and let her hair down. She finishes the last of her marshmallow, drops the stick on the ground, and extends her arms towards the fire, trying to warm up her hands. She hums along the song playing on the radio and smiles.

She has been feeling good. She hasn't been too hung up on Clarke, the big group making it easier for her to focus on something else. She still sneaks glances at her best friend who sits on the other side of the fire with her hair face glowing in the light and hair streaked golden, but she remembers to avert her eyes and strike a conversation with someone else often enough. 

There's a collective cheer around the fire at ten p.m. when Jasper face plants on the ground. As a general rule the party doesn't start until someone falls – everyone's determined to call themselves sober until then, watching their step with exaggerated caution. Octavia laughs as he watches Jasper get up and offers him another bottle. She turns on her seat to grab another for herself too, when someone catcalls, and Harper's laugh echoes over the lake's calm surface. Octavia turns back, ready to join in on the cheering, but instead she freezes, the smile on her face faltering, her fingers going slack around the neck of the bottle. The bottle falls on the ground with a dull thud, and Octavia can't do anything but stare.

That's her Clarke. And her brother. Kissing. She looks down at her own feet, and presses her eyes closed. She can't look at that. She doesn't want to see it, not when she can feel hear heart slowly shattering. She doesn't have a right to feel this way, she knows. She knows, but it doesn't make it any easier. Octavia attempts to scramble up from her seat and almost trips while stepping over one of the logs. She curses loudly, but doesn't let it slow her down. 

She hears Monty call after her, then Clarke, but doesn't stop. She waves her hand to show she's okay, and stomps the stairs up to the porch. She opens the door and struggles finding the light switch, then runs the steps upstairs two at a time and wrenches the bathroom door open, closing and locking it after herself.

”Fuck,” she whispers, frantically trying to wipe at her wet eyes and swallow down a sob. She leans against a wall and avoids looking in the mirror, knowing she'll look pathetic. She closes her eyes and covers her mouth, takes a deep breath in through her nose and exhales more evenly. ”I'm fine, it's fine,” she mutters, and clears her throat. She wipes at her eyes again and lifts her gaze towards the ceiling, blinking rapidly. ”Everything's okay.”

There's a knock on the door and Octavia whips her head to stare at it. ”Who is it?” she asks, grateful that her voice doesn't break.

”It's me,” Clarke says, and... of course it is. ”Can I come in?”

Octavia considers telling her to piss off, but none of this is Clarke's fault, and Octavia shouldn't take it out on her. She opens the door and lets the older girl in, stepping back to make room for her.

”Are you okay?” Clarke asks. She lifts her hands to cup Octavia's face and turns it gently in her hands. ”You've been crying.” She pulls her hands back and frowns, and Octavia knows that look on her face: guilt.

”It's nothing,” Octavia rushes to say. ”You know me, I'm a lightweight, and I just started to feel a little overwhelmed-”

”I shouldn't have kissed him,” Clarke interrupts, and Octavia falls silent. ”It was a bad idea.”

Octavia exhales shakily and turns her head, her eyes starting to fill with tears again. God, I'm ridiculous, she thinks, and shakes her head. ”No. You can do whatever you want, it's none of my business.”

”But he's your brother and I'm your best friend. It's weird for you, I should've…” She drifts off when Octavia bows her head. ”Oh, no, no, Octavia, please don't cry, I won't do it again, I promise. Hey, hey.” Clarke reaches for her again, grabs a hold of Octavia's shoulders and presses their foreheads together. ”I'm sorry.”

Octavia allows herself a moment of comforting before she shakes her head.

”I need to sit down,” she says, steps away from Clarke, and sits down on the toilet. She sniffles and accepts the piece of paper Clarke offers her, only to crumple it in her hands. She avoids the other girl's eyes and says, ”it's not that.”

Clarke crouches in front of her, her eyes scanning over Octavia's face, still guilty, but also confused. ”It's not what?”

”It's not because he's my brother and you're my...” Octavia closes her eyes and swallows. Her heart's hammering in her chest, and her cheeks are pale from fear, but she cannot back away from this. Clarke would know. She would know and Octavia would have to tell her anyway. 

”What is it?” Clarke asks gently.

Octavia looks up, looks her in the eye, and forces the words out. 

”I'm in love with you.”

Clarke's lips part and her eyes widen, and Octavia can't look at her. She can't look at her because she knows what she's going to say, and it's better not see the pity on her face. She covers her face with her hands, and regrets opening her mouth. ”I'm so sorry,” she stammers. ”I'm so, so sorry.”

It's quiet for a moment. Then Clarke makes a noise like she's wounded and she scoots closer. ”Oh sweetheart,” she whispers, her voice shaky. She pulls Octavia down from the toilet seat, onto the floor and against her chest, and wraps her arms around the girl, her other hand petting Octavia's hair. ”It's okay. You're okay.”

Octavia clings to her and doesn't let go.

**Author's Note:**

> if you have any the 100 prompts hmu @lightsabrey.tumblr.com


End file.
